Inconsolable (Love Triumphs 2) - Page 8
“We have programs for people who are homeless, have low incomes, or intellectual disabilities. We have group homes, temporary accommodation, income assistance, Job Start, and free counselling services.”
“And yet I can play chess at any hour of the day or night with other homeless people living on the street.”
“You’re right. You’re not the only one who doesn’t want our help. We wish we knew how to be more effective. Many people suffer, especially in winter. We’re a prosperous country, it needn’t be that way.”
His fixed stare at the landscape didn’t falter. “I’m not suffering.”
She sighed. Something had happened to this man to make him want to live here, but he wasn’t going to confess today, or maybe ever. “I have to ask you to leave here.”
“I understand.”
“You do?” What, it could not be that easy? She put her head in her hand, then winced as the movement grazed her sunburn.
“I understand you have to ask. It’s the reason you have expense claim privileges. People trust you to do your job.”
“I’m guessing people once trusted you too.”
He shook his head emphatically. “They were wrong to.”
Now there was anger in his tone. It might be a warning. “I see.”
He stood up. “No. You see a man living in a cave and a challenge to move him on.”
“Is that so wrong? You are living rough and there are easier ways.”
“For you. This is my way.”
She blew out a stream of air. She’d contemplated failing because he was dangerous, or avoided her, because he refused to engage or abused her, or needed more specialised professional help. She hadn’t planned on being outwitted by him.
He sat again, his eyes on his hands clasped in his lap. “I’ve frustrated you.”
That made her laugh. “It’s the story of my life. My flatmate Natalie calls me Frustrated Foley.”
That flicker of amusement in his cheek. “Apart from recalcitrant cavemen, what else frustrates you?”
“This is not about me.”
They both knew that, but she was desperate to connect with him, to gain any leverage she could get. If he took an interest in her, no matter how fleeting, it was a handhold.
“My career. My romantic life. My, my, I don’t know, it’s confusing. Just knowing what to do with myself, I guess. I’ll turn thirty soon and I’m not sure I’ve made enough of my life, you know. I think I’m with you on the science before God thing. I reckon I’m only going to get one go at life and I need to make it something exceptional, or I’ll have wasted my shot.”
She might as well have confessed her sins, spoken her hopes to a brick wall. He didn’t even blink the one eye she could see in profile. She screwed up her empty sandwich bag to punctuate her irritation.
“How’s that going for you?”
She looked back to him. Still a brick wall, but a questioning one.
“Apart from the requisite broken heart, stupid credit card debt, a stalled career, a tattoo I regret, an unhealthy addiction to potato chips and an inappropriate piercing—not so good.”
He almost, almost smiled.
“I’m not going to talk you into moving out today, am I?”
“No.”
“Would it make any difference if I explained why it’s important?”
“No.”
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